Infection
by TheWeatherOutside
Summary: Mud and open wounds don't mix well. (Whumptober Alternate Prompt 11 - Infection)


"You need to get out of there now, Gordon!"

"On it!"

Gordon hurried back to where he'd left the pod after he sent the remaining survivors they'd found up to Thunderbird 2. The ground was thick with mud and made his steps slow as his feet sunk into the ground, but he knew that the worst was yet to come.

He was close to the pod when he began to hear the trees in the distance start to crack. He knew he didn't have time to get away, but if he could get to the pod, he would be safe from the onslaught that was about to hit.

However, his movements were sluggish as his feet kept getting stuck in the mud. He only just managed to grasp onto the side of the pod when a heavy force hit him in his side and ripped him away from it.

Gordon tumbled through the thick water until he smashed into something hard and firm that stopped him abruptly. It was likely the side of a house, and he quickly tried to grab hold of something before he got swept away again.

Everything was slippery, but he eventually managed to grip onto something. Pieces of debris and broken trees crashed against his helmet and sent his head back. He couldn't see anything past the glass. It was all dark and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried his hardest to not let go of what he was holding.

Debris kept hitting his body and threatened to sweep him away, but he wouldn't let it. His grip only faltered when something sharp caught his leg and tried to pull him along with it.

He gasped in pain and accidently let go. He scrambled to find purchase on something else, and thankfully managed to grab onto something without being swept too far, and whatever had caught hold on his leg slipped free.

Almost as quickly as the mudslide had appeared, it stilled. Gordon could no longer feel the currents try and drag him away, but he still waited a long moment before he allowed himself to loosen his grip.

He kicked himself up to the surface. The mud tried to pull him back under, but he pushed himself through it and soon saw light.

Mud caked his visor and he wiped it off as best he could to see his surroundings.

He was right next to a house like he thought, and the water had risen up to the height of the roof. Gordon pulled himself up onto the roof, mud dripping off his body as he crawled away from the edge.

He released his helmet from his head and threw it down next to him as he took in deep breaths. He reached for the comm on his sash and as the logo lit up, voices crackled to life.

"G-don? Are…there?"

"I'm here," Gordon said once his breathing had settled a little.

"Gordon!" Virgil practically yelled through the comm that finally decided to work. "Where are you?"

"A roof." Gordon looked around to try and find something that would indicate his location better. He saw something a little distance away. "Near a tower, that looks a little bent."

"Okay, I see that. I'm coming."

Virgil went quiet as he concentrated on getting to Gordon, likely pushing his ship as fast as it could go, and Gordon stretched his leg out to see what the damage was.

There was a jagged cut across this thigh. It was bleeding sluggishly through the mud that covered his leg. He tried to put pressure on the wound to stifle the bleeding, but it didn't help that his hands were also caked in dirt.

A couple of minutes later, he heard the sound of Thunderbird 2's engine rumble above him. He looked up to find it stop and hover over him, and the lift began to lower.

Gordon pushed himself up with aching arms, and stood and waited for the lift, putting all his weight on his uninjured leg.

When the lift reached his level, he climbed on and then it began to ascend.

Virgil met him in the cockpit when he finally got back into the ship.

"You look like a mess," Virgil said as soon as he saw him, covered head to toe in mud.

"Thanks," Gordon replied with a smirk.

"Are you alright?" Virgil gestured to how he was leaning on one leg. He leant down and saw the cut across Gordon's leg. "We need to clean that out before it gets infected. You got more dirt than blood in you."

"Nice." Gordon grimaced at the picture that put in his head.

Virgil helped Gordon limp to the infirmary, where he deposited him next to the bed and went off to search for supplies.

Gordon perched himself on the bed, his leg propped up in front of him. He watched Virgil collect together everything he was going to need to clean and stitch up his wound.

Virgil eventually came back, his arms full of supplies, and dumped them all on the bed next to Gordon.

This was not going to be fun.


End file.
